


I Bet This Time Of Night You're Still Up

by The Tozier Wheeler Twins (omfgiminlovewithneeks)



Series: Songfics [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, M/M, Post-Break Up, Songfic, minor background relationships if you squint, most of the characters only got mentioned like once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omfgiminlovewithneeks/pseuds/The%20Tozier%20Wheeler%20Twins
Summary: Will thought that eventually, they would realize that breaking up was the right decision, and eventually, they would get over each other.Inspired mostly by I Almost Do - Taylor Swift.





	I Bet This Time Of Night You're Still Up

**Author's Note:**

> Good day everyone!
> 
> Welcome to my one shot that I just wrote instead of writing a new chapter for my other fic.  
> I had two different endings for this, one angsty and one happy, but sadly I can only give you one. After some thorough consideration (aka 5 coin flips), this is the final version.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this.
> 
> P/s: Shout out to Jake (@[castrateyourhumanpride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/castrateyourhumanpride)), Seeki (@[shewasthewind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasthewind/)), and El (@[trashmouthTM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deasar/pseuds/trashmouthTM)) for proofreading this.

Will opened the door to his apartment with a loud groan. The LED clock in the living room informed him that it was now half past midnight. Not enough to be considered ‘late’ in the Big Apple, and he was sure he’d come home later before, but this had been the latest he’d gotten home from a social suit-and-tie event. Not that he hadn’t expected it to be huge, with the media showing up and the live cameras rolling, but his art had never received such recognition before. He remembered how giddy he’d felt when he’d been told that he would be on live TV today. If only he’d known how tiring it was. Letting out another sigh, the artist slowly approached his windows — not even bothering turning on the lights since The City That Never Sleeps was bright enough to illuminate half his living room — and watched the people on the street going on with their nightly lives.

Will didn’t really like New York. It was always either too loud, too fast, too crowded, or too suffocating for him. However, since that could be said about most cities, he guessed he just wasn’t the urban type. It was good for business, though, especially in one of the biggest cities in the world, so he bought a house and stayed. Well, if living somewhere for four months a year could be called ‘staying’, as his work often took him all over the globe, either to collect data, draw, or sell his art. He’d just gotten back from Shanghai and he was still suffering from jet lag.

His apartment was still nice and cozy though — a one bedroom apartment on the 10th floor with the windows taking up the entire east side of the room. He would’ve worried about the sun in the morning if his apartment hadn’t been surrounded by taller buildings, blocking each and every sunray from the red ball of fire. He supposed that was a fair trade, since he definitely wouldn’t be able to afford an apartment like this with a nice view, and he also didn’t live in it often enough to enjoy said nice view anyway.

As Will turned around and headed for the kitchen, he noticed that his answering machine had been blinking red. _Huh?_ Who would even call his landline anymore? Everyone who knew him knew how often he traveled and would’ve called his cell if they wanted to reach him. “Three new messages,” he mumbled as he stopped by the machine. _That was unprecedented_ , he thought and pressed ‘Play’ before resuming his course to the kitchen to grab himself a cup of water.

**BEEEEEEEP.**

“Hi, Mr. Byers,” said an unfamiliar female voice, “I’m Myra, from Golden Apple Limousine. Mr. Kaspbrak wants me to inform you that you might get stuck in heavy traffic if he’s picking you up on schedule. If you want him to meet you sooner, please let us know before 3pm. Thank you for choosing our service. Have a nice day!”

He must’ve gotten that when he’d been sleeping earlier, courtesy of his jet lag. He hadn’t woken up until half an hour before his pick up time, and had to perform the quickest showering and getting dressed routine in his adult life. But that would’ve explained Eddie’s I-told-you-so attitude when they’d gotten caught in traffic that afternoon. Eddie Kaspbrak was his chauffeur, and had been his chauffeur since the first time Will had used the guy’s limousine service. However, Will felt like their relationship were more than that, maybe even closer to friends. Eddie wasn’t being overly polite around him, and Will thought that other than his friends and family, Eddie was the easiest person to talk to. Furthermore, they had twice gone out for drinks after his art shows, and were definitely on a first name basis. Or maybe he was just lonely enough to think of his chauffeur as his friend.

**BEEEEEEEP.**

The next message started with an extremely familiar high-pitch squeal, and he couldn’t help but wince a little as Joyce’s voice came out of the speaker. “Oh my god, Will, look at you, baby,” his mom said before letting out another sound, and he chuckled a little at her tone. “You’re so handsome, Will. I am so proud of you, baby. I knew you’d make it”. He shook his head at his mother’s overly excited voice, but smiled softly at that nonetheless. Had she called him right after his interview? Or worse, had she left this message _during_ the interview? He could imagine Joyce making everyone she knew gather around in her living room waiting for his face to show up on TV, and calling everyone who wasn’t there to gush about it. He downed his glass of water before pouring himself another and heading back to his sofa, as his mom continued talking about how handsome he looked and how proud she was, before finally telling him to not skip any meals even when he was working, and hanging up.

Will loved his mom. It didn’t matter if he was 27 years old now, or the ‘most wanted artist in the world’, as his interviewer had dubbed him last night. To her, he was still her baby boy whom she would give anything to protect. There had been a time when she’d smothered him instead of just looking out for him, but after five different talks from him, Jonathan, and even Hopper, his mom had finally learned to keep it under control. Will’s eyes darted to his clock. Ten minutes to one. Not late for New York, but definitely late for Hawkins, Indiana. He guessed he’d call her first thing after he woke up then.

**BEEEEEEEP.**

“Hi Will”. His finger slipped, and if it hadn’t been for his carpet, his glass of water would probably have shattered on the floor by now. The smile on his face had completely vanished, as he felt an invisible hand closing around his throat. “It’s Mike. Again”.

Of course it was Mike. How could he ever forget the voice of his first friend, first best friend, and first love? Well, not that he’d tried very hard either, but why would he even _want_ to forget Mike? “I saw you on— I mean— Uh, I guess you’re in New York right now,” Mike said before pausing more, as if trying to find the right words to say. So he’d also called sometime after seeing him on TV. Of course Mike would call after that. The guy always tried to contact Will whenever he learned that Will was in town. Will shouldn’t have been surprised anymore. Except that he was. Every. Single. Time.

“God, I don’t even know why I keep calling you,” Mike said, letting out a dry chuckle. Will hadn’t realized that he’d been hugging his knees and rocking back and forth, trying to calm himself down until now. “You probably hate my guts right now”. No. He could never hate Mike. How could Mike think that he could ever hate Mike? Well, he knew why Mike thought that. Dustin’s phone call last year had let him know.

~~~~

_“What the fuck are you doing, Byers?” Dustin practically shouted at him._

_Will winced and held the phone a little further away from his ear. That wasn’t what you expected to hear right after you picked up._

_“Hello to you too, Dustin,” Will said, rolling his eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure, at 7am nonetheless?”_

_“Don’t you fucking sass me,” his curly-haired friend warned. “You do know people can tell when you’re looking through a peephole, right?”_

_“So?” Will sighed. If this was another 4 o’ clock One Missed Call talk, Dustin had just lost his present privilege the next time Will visited San Francisco._

_“_ ‘So’ _?” Dustin repeated incredulously. “_ ‘So’ _? Mike came to your place yesterday,” his friend said with an accusatory tone, and Will’s eyes widened._

_“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. Mike had come here yesterday and knocked on his door. Twice. But as soon as Will had looked through the peephole, he’d panicked and slid down to the floor, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth like he always did when he panicked. He’d thought about running back to his bedroom, or to his living room, or basically just running away from the front door, but he just couldn’t. So he’d sat there, listening to Mike knocking on his door for a second time, and then a single, final knock, and Will just knew that knock had said ‘Okay then, I’m leaving now’._

_“Yeah, ‘shit’ alright,” Dustin scoffed. “He knew you were there, and he knew you knew it was him”. Will could imagine his friend facepalming as the blond guy let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t care why you broke up with him. Just tell him that you hate his stupid face or that you never want to see or hear from him again”._

_“I can’t do that, Dusty,” Will sighed. “F-Friends don’t lie”._

_“Oh, ‘friends don’t lie’, now?” Dustin said disbelievingly. “That’s rich. You guys are_ friends _now. Is that why he has to talk to someone across the country to ask about his ‘friend’ who lives in his same city? Is that why he’s the only one of us who doesn’t have your new mobile number?” Will flinched at Dustin’s outburst. “When was the last time you answered his call or talked to him? Let’s face it, Will. I am friends with you. I am friends with him. The whole party is still friends with both of you. But you two aren’t friends anymore. Not for a while now. You two are just two strangers who are weirdly obsessed with each other. Fuck, you can’t even repeat his words without stuttering”. Will’s tears were threatening to fall now, but he couldn’t say anything. Dustin was right. “You’re just someone who has all his books, both the hard copy and the audio version, and he’s just someone who knows everything about every painting of a single artist”. The curly-haired guy’s rant was interrupted by someone grumbling something that Will couldn’t quite catch, but Dustin immediately snapped back and he could guess what the conversation was about. “I don’t care if you have to wake up in 3 hours. This is an emergency, so suck it up”._

 _Despite being the one who’d just been scolded no less than ten seconds ago, Will couldn’t help but let out a teary chuckle at that. He’d definitely messed up big time if Dustin of all people had to call and scold him in the middle of the night. There was some shuffling and the sound of a door closing on the phone, and he assumed Dustin had moved to somewhere he could talk when his friend’s voice returned, softer this time. “Look, man, I know it’s been hard for you, but this is killing both of you, and I really can’t watch it, so_ please _, Will, do something about it”._

_Will sighed. It was one thing, knowing you had to do something, but it was another, actually coming up with something to do. “How’s the Silicon Valley hotshot?” Will asked, changing the topic._

_“He’ll live,” Dustin huffed._

~~~~

Well, it turned out, ‘doing something’ for him was traveling across Eurasia for his latest collection — the one that everyone was now talking about. Definitely not the ‘something’ Dustin wanted, but at least it had bought Will some time. Until now.

“I guess I just want to congratulate you,” Mike’s voice snapped him back to reality. “I knew everyone would know your name someday. I’m—” Mike cut himself off before he could say whatever he’d wanted to say, and Will didn’t realize how _desperate_ he wanted to know it.

“Well, I guess you have everything you’ve ever wanted now,” Mike let out a chuckle, but Will could hear the sadness underneath it. _No, Mike_ , he thought, _you are all I’ve ever wanted, and by chasing this dream, I’ve lost you_.

Mike had never said it, but Will had seen the tiredness in his eyes when they’d barely gotten to see each other anymore. They had often had to travel to different countries for their work and because of their work. Will had thought that he had given Mike the out that Mike had been too kind to ask for, and that eventually, they would both see it. Well, it had been three years now, and he didn’t think either of them had. Other than the fact that their breakup had done _wonders_ for their works, with Mike being one of the youngest bestselling authors and Will being the most sought after artist of the modern time, as Lucas had once pointed out, their personal lives had been shit ever since.

“I’m so sorry,” Mike’s voice was heartbreaking, and Will wanted nothing more than to pull the love of his life in for an embrace. He guessed it didn’t help if he kept thinking of Mike as _the love of his life_ , but as Dustin had pointed out a year ago, they weren’t friends anymore, and Will still wasn’t able to call Mike his _ex_. “I know I said I would stop calling you. I just—”

More silence. Will didn’t know if he preferred this to Mike’s voice. Well, that was a lie. He knew he wanted to hear Mike’s voice, to feel Mike’s arms around him, to bury his face in Mike’s chest, and he definitely did not want to hear Mike keep stopping himself in the middle of a sentence, as if he could possibly say a single wrong thing to Will. No, Will was the one at fault, not Mike. He was the one who’d broken up with his amazing boyfriend, and the one who’d refused to talk to Mike for three whole years. Mike was the one who’d never given up, even after all this time.

“Well, this time I promise you I’ll stop bothering you,” Mike said after clearing his throat. _What?_ Will’s eyes widened. _No! Please don’t stop. I don’t want—_ , he stopped his train of thought. How selfish was he, to want Mike to keep holding onto him despite how he was being treated? He wouldn’t want his friends to keep thinking about some jerks who’d left them for no reason like that, so why did he want Mike to?

“I’m sorry,” Mike sighed. “I just want to tell you tha—”

**BEEEEEEEP.**

_What? No, no, no, no, no_ . Will immediately bolted to his answering machine, hopelessly trying to somehow get what Mike wanted to say out of it, as if it had been recording after that final beep, and was just hiding that crucial tape from him. _Stupid machine. Didn’t it hear Mike say he wouldn’t call again? Why did it have to cut him off?_ Will wanted to just throw it away, to smash it to a million pieces, but he knew the machine wasn’t what he was mad at. No. Unlike him, the machine had answered each and every phone call of Mike’s. The machine was what Mike heard every time he tried to reach out. Sure, it was his voice on the machine, but it wasn’t him. That had been the last time Mike talked to him, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

 _Unless you call him_.

 _No_. Mike had finally reached the stage where he would heal. There was no way Will would ever sabotage that.

Will’s eyes glanced at the clock. _12:57am_. He knew Mike would still be up at this hour. Even if they’d stopped talking to each other for three years, he believed he still knew his childhood best friend enough. Not to mention, they had dated for a long time before their breakup, and some knowledge would just follow you until the day you die even if you stopped needing it. If he knew Mike, and he knew he did, the guy was probably sitting in his chair by the window and looking out at the city.

This wasn’t the first time Will wanted to call Mike either, so he knew no matter how much he wanted, even if he ended up falling asleep clutching the phone, he wouldn’t make the call. He almost had, every single time, but he hadn’t, and he wouldn’t.

 _1:07am_. Will reached for the phone. He missed Mike. He’d never stopped missing Mike. Not during his trips to anywhere and everywhere in the world, where he’d always lain alone in his bed, wishing Mike had been there, the same way he was wishing that Mike was here right now. Not during their little fallout when they’d been in college, where he’d spent every night clutching his phone, hoping for a call from Mike, the same way he was clutching his phone right now. He’d missed Mike even during their time dating, whenever he hadn’t been around Mike. He’d missed Mike even before they’d started dating, every night in his old room in Hawkins. He’d missed Mike even before he’d realized his feelings for Mike, always looking forward to another day at school with his best friend.

He could practically hear Lucas’ voice chiding him. _‘Sitting alone in a dark room thinking about the ex that you’ve never gotten over, just what every psychiatrist recommends’_. Well, Lucas could go fuck himself, or better yet, fuck someone else, because Will had been doing this for three years, and it had never failed to work.

 _1:12am_. Will put the phone down. He knew he wouldn’t call.

 

* * *

 

The phone rang, snapping Mike out of his train of thought. _Jesus, who would call at a quarter after one?_ He scowled and looked at the caller’s ID. He didn’t recognize this number. Probably just someone being given a fake number, which happened to be his.

“Hello, Mike Wheeler speaking,” he picked up, out of courtesy. There was only silence on the other line.

“Who is it?” He asked impatiently. Didn’t whoever it was have the decency to apologize for dialing the wrong number?

Someone on the other line let out a breath, and Mike’s eyes widened. He could hear their breathing now, and he _knew_ this breathing. He’d spent years listening to it next to him, trying to calm down. He’d spent even a longer time listening to it from his own walkie talkie, almost every night as the person on the other end tried to calm himself down enough to get at least some sleep.

“Will?” Mike asked, not being able to stop his voice from sounding a little hopeful. Will had never called him since their breakup. There was no reason to believe it was him. _But I know this breathing_.

“Please don’t keep that promise,” Will finally said with a shaky voice, and Mike thought his heart had just done a somersault.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think about this fic? Like it? Hate it? Think I need to improve it? Let me know in the comments.
> 
> This ended up having a happy ending after all. To those I've asked for opinions on the ending, blame the ones who didn't answer before I decided to flip a coin (or in case of the ones rooting for the happy ending, be glad that I didn't change my mind once more).
> 
> Hopefully this songfic series won't be updated again until I'm finished with my other fics.
> 
> Finally, thanks for reading.


End file.
